


Heureux Celui Qui Meurt D'aimer

by Flowers_For_Elizabeta



Category: Grand Illusion
Genre: Character Study, Fix-It of Sorts, Historical Inaccuracy, Hurt/Comfort, I am allowed to take artistic liberties, I don't understand how aristocracy works, I really tried doing research but French and German military history is hard to look up, I watched this movie in my cinema class and was inspired to the detriment of everyone else, Introspection, Kind of..., M/M, Pre-Slash, What Have I Done, Wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:54:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29500245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flowers_For_Elizabeta/pseuds/Flowers_For_Elizabeta
Summary: This is a what-if Boeldieu didn't die in the movie. I absolutely love this movie. I was so happy my cinema class made us watch this. I especially love Boeldieu and Rauffenstein in Grand Illusion. I cried watching the infirmary scene. That pain inspired to write this, so that's why this has the "What have I done" tag. I really wanted to explore more of their relationship because there was something there. But, before we get there I started analyzing Boeldieu's chracter. I didn't intend for it to happen, but Boeldieu started unloading all of his emotional issues the second I started writing.
Relationships: Rauffenstein/Boeldieu
Kudos: 2





	Heureux Celui Qui Meurt D'aimer

**Author's Note:**

> One quick note before you read, in the movie Boeldieu and Rauffenstein don't have canonical first names, so I gave them one. My journey to name them was interesting. I started by looking up their ages, but couldn't so I looked up their actor's ages. Pierre Fresnay was 40 in this movie and Erich von Stronheim was 52. So, Boeldieu and Rauffenstein are that age in my fic. Although, I did age Rauffenstein to 46, so he was closer in age to Boeldieu. I looked up French and German aristocracy and ended up going down a rabbit hole. Unfortunately, I coudln't spend forever reading so I eventually looked up popular names in the 1890s when both characters would have been born. I choose both because they sounded nice. Jean means "God is gracious" and "Armand" means soldier in French. How fitting...I was so happy when I looked that up because it fit so well into my writing. Wilhelm is composed of will and helmet which fits his determined and protective character. 
> 
> The title comes from the poem "Heureux Celui Qui Meurt D'aimer" by Louis Aragon. The title roughly translates to "Happy is the one who dies from love". You'll see why this fits as you read.

Pain. That was the first thing Boeldieu felt when he woke up. It was an all encompassing feeling that left him light headed—and yet, he found comfort in the stinging sensation. He found comfort in the familiar sensation because it meant he was still alive. Most assumed he lived an easy life; this was partially true. As an aristocrat, he was allowed certain luxuries others below his station could only dream of but there was a sinister reality to his lifestyle. He had nothing against the lower class; they lacked a deeper insight into the responsibility and burden placed upon him.

For as long as he could remember, Boeldieu was a soldier first and foremost. From a young age, he was trained to be the spitting image of _the_ perfect soldier and live up to the great Boeldieu name. He was subjected to a particularly harsh training regiment that broke and built him as many times as deemed necessary. He remembers training sessions that left him hurting for days with nothing but bruises and a broken pride as a reward for his efforts. But, as torturous as his younger days were, it was that same routine that helped him learn the ins and outs of military life securing his place as a Boeldieu.

Since then, he was taught how to hold himself in a dignified manner. He was taught how to bring honor to his family. He was taught to bring honor to his country. He was taught to put the group over the individual. Boeldieu could read the subtext. He was being told to shut up and not do anything stupid. He didn’t have the luxury of making mistakes. This was a lesson he learned at 8 years old.

He learned how others sought to use him for their own personal gain. Whether it was financial or social, they always had a hidden motive when approaching Boeldieu. He learned how to play the game of politics. He learned how to discern motives and see through people’s facades. He played along with their games, but he was never fooled for even one second.

He knew others thought of him as kind and to an extent easy-going, but those same people would easily become disillusioned with how unapproachable he was. No matter how much he tried, there was always something slightly off about himself. It was unnoticeable from a distance, so the captain kept everyone he cared about from a distance. That way he didn’t have to see those happy faces contort in displeasure at his character. Over time, he learned how not to take offense. He learned how to ignore the blooming annoyance and shame mingling in his chest. He learned to take pride in his mannerisms because there was nothing wrong with it. There was nothing wrong with him. The captain never felt free to express himself in the over the top fashion as most of his peers. At times, he envied his comrades for their easy ability to emote, but most of the time he found it exhausting.

If there was one positive aspect to his comrades, he found that he could relax with Marechal or Rosenthal; their genuine companionship took a significant weight off his shoulders. Although discerning motives came as naturally to him as breathing, it exhausted him to be on edge constantly. Yet, it was that ability that earned his men's’ trust. His uncanny ability to read a situation and come up with a plan was crucial to the various military campaigns he had been a part of over the years. His comrades thought it came to him effortlessly—which pained him to know. No one would ever acknowledge the decades of practice he spent perfecting his skill. This is what was expected of him. And so, the captain made sure no one knew the dozens of back up plans constantly running through his mind. As a strategist, Boeldieu prepared for any and all eventualities. He was rarely caught off guard. Which led him to his current predicament. The name of his predicament was Major Von Rauffenstein.

Rauffenstein...confused him. Boeldieu never thought he would be shot down, much less spend time as a prisoner of war. It was an unlikely setback, but one he could work around. His primary goal was to escape. Once he escaped he could go back to the war. He already made 3 attempts which led to his transfer to the castle and his current predicament.

Boeldieu expected to be treated well because of his social class. What he didn’t expect was the interest Rauffenstein had taken in him. This baffled the Frenchman much to the German’s amusement. Rauffenstein genuinely seemed to enjoy his company for reasons he could not comprehend. When he asked, the German spoke in great lengths about similarities in social class. But that could not be the reason—It couldn’t!

Boeldieu had to admit; he was originally drawn to the man for the same reason. But, in the short time he spent with Rauffenstein, the Frenchman had genuinely come to enjoy the other’s company. There was a startling ease to how he could be around the German.

Rauffenstein held himself in a similar manner as himself, but there was a level of self-importance and weariness to the man that spoke of a remarkable character who went through many trials and tribulations in life. Boldieu initially treated the man with the same easy-going weariness he showed to everyone, but no matter how politely social he was, the German still sought him out. And no matter how much he pondered why, he could not figure him out.

As a prominent member of society he was afforded more luxuries that placed him on a more equal level with their captors, but at the end of the day he was a prisoner. He had nothing of value such as inside information or money outside of his status. Yet, this didn’t deter Rauffenstein who pursued him with seemingly no expectations. And in turn, Boeldieu began to reciprocate this vulnerability and take the initiative to seek out the other man for a reprieve from daily prison life.

He genuinely liked and respected his comrades, but they could be complacent at best and foolhardy at worst. He always had to carry himself in a dignified yet approachable manner. This left him drained most days. It had been the same with Rauffenstein at first, but over time he shed some of that discomfort and relaxed. He still carried himself in an upright manner. Rauffenstein accepted this and relaxed in a similar manner. The Major would never know how much this show of trust endeared him to the captain.

To his surprise and delight, their fast growing friendship didn’t stop there. Boeldieu was flummoxed when the major shared his past with him. They talked for hours about their military careers, their childhoods, their families, and their family expectations. But over time they began to share more mundane details. They talked about their favorite films, their favorite places to go on leave, flowers, philosophy, and even what they would do if they weren’t born into military families. Both agreed that they wouldn’t give it up even if they could, but there was an appeal to see more of the world of their own volition. And if they promised to see Switzerland together one afternoon, no one had to know.

He blearily looked at the high beamed ceiling. He saw the same rustic walls he had been trapped in for months stare back at him; the distinct musty smell of medical supplies and herbs assaulted his nose. Realistically, he knew he was alive, but a small part of him was scared this was some hallucination his dying mind created to placate him as a last mercy.

“Jean Armand,” Boeldieu startled at the use of his first name, but quickly relaxed knowing there was only one person who called him by his illusive first name. His identity was centered around being a Boeldieu. Very few people knew much less cared about his first name. Even fewer called him by his name. Most people glossed over him and focused on his surname. This was to be expected, but Jean Armand desperately wished for someone to call him by his name.

The Frenchman hadn’t meant to share his name; it was a situation out of his control. A treacherous corner of his mind desperately wanted to know how much their friendship was worth as his heart could only steel itself for disappointment. He offhandedly mentioned his name while helping the German tend to his geranium. He convinced himself it would be a fun fact that would be overlooked. He should have known his friend wasn’t that simple. In a rare show of exuberance, the German positively shined at this new knowledge. From then on, he had taken to calling Boeldieu, Jean Armand in private.

Strangely, Rauffenstein didn’t share his own name that day as Jean Armand would have thought. He felt hurt by the lack of admission, but he knew what it was like so he didn’t push. It didn’t matter how much time they spent with each other or how well Jean Aramand thought he knew the other. Major Von Rauffenstein would always remain a frustrating, yet intriguing puzzle he would never solve.

He turned to look at the man in question. The major looked visibly stricken. His clothes were slightly disheveled, but he knew that the major would never be anything less than pristine. Although he couldn’t hunch over because of his brace, everything about the man looked smaller. His furrowed brow accentuated his eyes that shone with sorrow. All of this looked wrong on his friend. Jean Armand gave a weak smile at him.

“Wilhelm,” Jean Armand called. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was silently relieved the day Wilhelm shared his name with him. Wilhelm Rauffenstein. He thought it suited the other man perfectly. He was overjoyed to be privy to this knowledge and to be to Wilhelm what Wilhelm was to him. From that day, he took to calling Rauffenstein, Wilhelm in private.

Wilhelm’s eyes shot over to him. He had so many things he wanted to say to the other man, his mind racing through each and every word he wanted to say but never did. He planned out several conversations in his head scheming how to steer the conversation in a safe direction. But like many of his plans regarding Wilhelm, they came apart at the threads. He meant to apologize, to reassure.

“Did they make it out?” was what he blurted out, immediately wishing to take back his words. His statement earned him a tight smile, not quite resentful but not quite joyful. If he thought he could see slight pride in the crinkles of his eyes it was just Jean Armand’s imagination. Wilhelm let out a low laugh, shocking him with how breathless the German man sounded.

“You surprise me every time Jean Armand” His voice audibly lowered on his name drawing out the syllables as if they were the key to a riddle only Wilhelm knew. Perhaps, he wasn’t the only one confused by the other in this strange companionship they created. Before he could continue this line of thought—he realized that the commander had not answered his question. He felt strangely flustered at the disregard.

“You didn’t answer my question” He bluntly stated, drawing his shoulders back the most he could without agitating his wound. It was a desperate attempt to recompose himself even if he was loath to disrupt the comfortable atmosphere they created. Rauffenstein noticed the change in tone and fixed his demeanor into a more neutral stance, but a boyish mirth remained in the cusps of his eyes. However, unknown to Boeldieu, Rauffenstein saw the slight wince the Frenchman made when sitting up and sobered to the other’s discomfort.

“Don’t agitate your wound” he commanded, gently clasping his shoulder with one hand and adjusting his pillow with the other as he gently maneuvered his friend into a less strainful sitting position. A spark of warmth bloomed in Boeldieu’s chest at the soft handling even as his muscle memory screamed at him that this kind of weakness was unacceptable. Even so, his irrational thought won over his rational mind and he felt himself relax into the other man’s fussing. A wry smile passed on his lips.

“I thought I told you I’m not self-sacrificing enough to get hurt more than I need to”. In the back of his mind, he recalled what he thought was his last conversation with Wilhelm. He felt his heart clench at the thought. He hadn’t wanted to die, but he found comfort in the amusement he brought the German in his dying moments. The realization that he truly had no regrets if he died shocked him. The same could not be said about Wilhelm. A heavy guilt blanketed Wilhelm that night. Boeldieu was not sorry for doing what he had to do that night, but Jean Armand desperately wished he could take back the emotional hurt he had inflicted on his friend.

“I meant what I said” He paused here to give himself a moment’s rest to not agitate his wound. Wilhelm shot him a surprised look. If anyone else looked at the German, they would see a stoic face; the slight arch of his eyebrow and tilt of his body let the Frenchman know Wilhelm was genuinely surprised by his easy forgiveness.

“I know you didn’t want to shoot me, but you did what you had to as I did what I had too. And for that, I cannot fault you.” The German gave a shuddery breath.

“And I meant what I said...just because I had to didn’t mean I wanted to” at the admission there was a heavy oppressive atmosphere. Jean Armand was torn between comforting his friend and getting his point across. In the end, he settled for both.

“I know...Thank you,” the German gave him a sharp glance at this, displeasure evident in his body posture.

“Don’t thank me,” He boomed.

“Not for that. Never for that” Wilhelm took a deep breath.

“No, I need to,” Jean Armand insisted. He turned to look at the German as best as he could sitting back. He desperately needed to let Wilhelm know.

“I told you back then that this is the honorable way for either of us to go. I won’t lie to you. I—I was terrified that night. In the back of my mind, I always knew I would die in the field. Far away from anyone or anywhere I have ever known. It used to keep me up as a child once I realized those sessions weren’t games” the Frenchman faltered—almost stopped at seeing his friends' crestfallen face, but he pushed on because what he had to say was something the both of them needed to hear.

“But, I wasn’t alone that night. For better or for worse, we are in this together. Somehow, someway, we found each other in this vast and empty world. Our first meeting wasn’t ideal, but you have given me kindness. You have given me friendship. You have given me a reason to keep living”.

“I almost took away your life”.

“No! You didn’t!” he was almost hysterical, raising his voice for the first time in years.

“You did your duty. What you didn’t have to do was stay by my side. Why did you even stay?” he looked incredulously at the vexing figure before him.

“I couldn’t leave you alone” was the curt answer he received.

“That was it? You couldn’t leave me alone? Bullshit!” he gestured at the man accusingly. The German further proved his point by staying silent. 

“You’re always talking to me, so why won’t you speak to me now?” Jean Armond was almost ready to let the conversation drop. He was done. If the major didn’t want to talk he didn’t have to—It was fine.

“How can you speak to me when I am the reason you almost died?” At this, he resolutely looked away from the major.

“You’re also the entire reason I am trapped here, so I don’t see your point” he huffed. The atmosphere was dark and heavy like a storm cloud charging to burst. His chest ached so much he almost thought he had been shot in the chest instead. Neither man spoke for several moments. Neither man dared to.

“...because you make me feel less lonely,” Wilhelm finally admitted.

“...”

“Because you make me feel something. Day in and day out nothing ever changes. I always have to pretend to be more than I am because if I don’t everyone will know how weakened I am. And if they know, they will render me limb from limb. You were the first person I told about my injuries in a long time. You didn’t give me pity. You gave me the gift of compassion” his eyes snapped back to his friend. Wilhelm’s eyes were suspiciously shiny. As frustrated as the Frenchman felt, he also felt sorry for his friend, understanding far more than he would ever admit to the German’s feelings.

“If you know that; why can’t you understand that you were the entire reason I wasn’t scared that night. I was happy to have had the honor of having you as a friend” he let his lips twitch upwards in the facsimile of a smile.

“And I, you. Then again, I should have known you’re too calculating to attempt such an inelegant escape plan” there was a slight tease here. Wilhelm truly thought too highly of him.

“I think you’re forgetting my various escape attempts—one of which included a clothes basket and another included dressing as a woman-Pff!” Boeldieu couldn’t finish his sentence and began laughing which startled a laugh out of Rauffenstein. At first, the two men tried to compose themselves, but with every passing second their laughter escalated. At the moment, they weren’t two military officers, but two young men basking in the echo of the others' happiness. They laughed. They roared. They felt pure unadulterated joy that shook their entire bodies with mirth and lightened their hearts with ecstasy. Within seconds, the lingering awkwardness around them vanished and it felt as if they were back to a time before the escape attempt. Their laughs eventually tapered off when Jean Armand aggravated his wound; the warm mood persisted. A moment of silence passed between the two men as they caught their breath. After a moment, Rauffenstein coughed bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. There was a slight upturn in his lips.

“Congratulations Boeldieu for being a part of the first and final successful escape from here” The German looked down at him with a self-satisfied look. Jean Armand relaxed into the pillow and smiled. They did it. Marechal and Rosenthal had made it out. He gave out a happy sigh before realizing the implications of their escape. His lip minutely twitched. They were not here anymore. He was saddened at the idea of never seeing his comrades again, but his happiness for their escape overpowered his uncertainty. Boeldieu cleared his throat and addressed Rauffenstein.

“I would have thought you would be more upset about that. What would your fellow officers think?” He gave a small smile, but maintained his voice as neutral as he could. He slightly stressed his last words to let the German know he was teasing. The German immediately caught on.

“If it had been anyone else, I would have been mad. But, because it was you who masterminded this; I don’t feel as cheated. That being said, this is the only time you will ever succeed”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I have to keep you sharp somehow”.

“And that’s precisely why I’m not letting you out of my sight”. Most prisoners would have balked at the prospect of being closely observed; they would have cried at the inevitable failure of any future escape attempts. This was not true for Jean Armand. He felt strangely excited at the chance to spend more time with Wilhelm.

“All that means is that I have to be even more careful to concoct an escape plan right in front of _the_ Von Major,” He felt intoxicated at the thought to engage in a continuous battle of wits. The German sighed at what many considered out of character antics for Boeldieu. However, it was a good natured sigh that expressed a desire to be indulgent to Jean Armand’s whims. Wilhelm knew his friend was a naturally composed person and he would never dare to change that. He also knew that the Frenchman could be mischievous. It was subtle to most, but a spark would light in Jean Armand’s eyes. It was in these moments that the Frenchman gained confidence in himself. He was a confident man, but he possessed a subdued strength in his everyday life. The confidence Jean Armand let him see was unrestrained and far more precious. It warmed the German man’s heart to see his friend carefree.

“Even more reason to keep you from getting shot."

“I thought I made it clear that I never want to take a bullet anywhere ever again?”

“Intent and action are two different things."

“They are, aren’t they?” The conversation dipped here. He glanced around the room, basking in his second chance. His eyes naturally glanced over to the geranium the German had been taking care of. His eyes widened in shock at seeing the pot empty. A sinking horror pooled in his stomach at the thought of something happening to the flower that he and the German had tenderly cared for in the past months.

“What happened?” At the German’s confused expression and slight furrow in his brow—Jean Armand hastily added.

“To your flower, I mean." At the clarification, hurt flashed through the German man’s eyes before he composed himself.

“There wasn’t a point in having it anymore”. Each word was said in a perfectly controlled and measured way exposing how hurt Wilhelm was. If he had been paying less attention, Jean Armand would have felt betrayed by this admission.

“But you were taking so good care of it…” The German winced at this before settling into perfect military attention. He paused for the moment as if preparing to deliver some grand speech.

“I told you back then that this flower was one of a kind. It was the only one in the castle” Wilhelm’s eyes burned through him as he said this. He tilted his head contemplating the German’s words; he could not find sense in them.

Rauffenstein moved away as if to go, but he didn’t say goodbye so the Frenchman knew he wasn’t leaving him. He took out a small key and strode over to the front of a small drawer. From it, he pulled a small slip of paper. Boeldieu couldn’t see what it was from the distance and as curious as he felt he had no desire to call out feeling content watching the other man in silence. Instead, he watched Wilhelm gaze at the slip before turning to him and pinning him with the same stare from before.

With an outstretched hand, Wilhelm stopped in front of him. Jean Armond went to grab the slip from Wilhelm's hands, their fingers brushing as they passed the exchange. He glanced down into his hand and saw a bookmark with a flower design. Upon closer inspection he noticed it wasn’t any flower, but their geranium.

“Just because there was no point anymore, did not mean I was ready to let go”.

“Then, why are you giving it to me? This is yours” his voice took on a slightly panicked cadence.

“It never was,” was the short reply he got.

“This isn’t like you. I have never heard you like this. You still have the actual plant with the roots. It’s not over, you can still watch it grow”.

“I realize that now."

“I see that I also can’t trust you to take care of yourself. I think at this point we both have realized we’re not going to achieve honorable deaths. So, at the very least lead an honorable life. If you can’t find a reason to live for yourself, live for something else. You don’t get to die before me and I don’t get to die before you,” At any other point in his life, Boeldieu would have been mortified at his rambling, but Jean Armand needed to get his friend to see reason. It must have finally clicked because Wilhelm’s shoulders shook as his chest heaved. But there was a newfound determination in his stance. Jean Armond was relieved to see his friend regain a fundamental piece of himself. Although there was more both of them wanted to say, they knew they had time.

“Get better soon and don’t irritate your stomach more than you already have. I will see you again tomorrow” was all Wilhelm said as he got up to leave. Jean Armond soundlessly waved him off. The promise of tomorrow was the best medicine Jean Armond and Wilhelm could ever receive. 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote my first fanfic! (≧◡≦) ♡ I really loved this movie and I just had to write more because I needed Boeldieu and Rauffenstein to have more screen time. I really tried to write these two as accurate as I could to their movie selves with my own twist. I think I pulled it off. ♡(｡- ω -) Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this. If you want to feel emotional, listen to "Noblesse Oblige" while reading this. It's the song that plays during the infirmary scene. Stay safe everyone. If you're thirsty get up and drink some water. If you're hungry get up and eat a snack. Take care of yourselves (*´▽`*)


End file.
